Barter Glass shards, green in color, were scattered randomly on the dark gray concrete. Light reflected off them from the only functional streetlight on the road giving them the appearance of emeralds on black velvet. Standing in the dark, he said aloud, "Imported beer. I wonder who around here drinks imported beer." He pushed, with the toe of his shoe, the neck of the broken bottle on top of a used condom lying in the gutter. The used condom belonged in this neighborhood; the bottle didn't. Sighing, he stepped up the crumbling curb to the cracked sidewalk. Six feet away were the steps to the dilapidated house. He sat down on the second step ignoring the creak that it made as the wood flexed under his weight. Across the street, bored hookers plied their wares under the streetlight. It was impossible to mistake their reason for loitering along the road. They advertised their occupation by the clothes they wore - skirts that didn't cover their asses and tube tops that could be pulled down to show their goods. High heels pushed their asses out and caused their stomachs to bulge forward giving them a slightly pregnant look. They were caricatures of sexy women. The women strutted on parade, talked to each other, and tried to wave down the cars that cruised past. Cars slowed down as the drivers checked out the talent standing in the gutter under the streetlight. For every twenty cars that went by, one would pull over to the curb. The hookers always knew which of them the driver was interested in picking up. An old brown Impala pulled up, stopping where the light of the streetlight barely reached. A black hooker, wearing a white frilly skirt that didn't cover her white thong walked up to the car and bent down to talk through the open window. Her large ass stuck out while she pulled her white tube top down, giving the driver a good view of her tits. The tits were large, but had lost the war against gravity years ago. She turned and shook her ass in the window of the car in a clear indication of what she thought was her best selling feature. From the curb, he watched the drama play itself out to its usual conclusion. Too far away to hear what was said, he didn't need to hear it to know what was being said. It was always the same patter, say whatever was needed to interest the guy and then negotiate the price. Two minutes, that's all it usually took. The hooker got into the car making sure to bring her little handbag. The handbag contained her supply of condoms for the night and a few crinkled bills from previous customers. In the morning, there'd be fewer condoms and more money in it. By noon, the money would be gone and more condoms added. The Impala pulled away and turned down a side street where it was much darker. The taillights disappeared behind the abandoned gas station on the corner. Based on the location selected by the driver, odds were good that the hooker would end up giving him a blowjob. Another condom would join the hundreds on the ground behind the gas station. A skinny white girl came out of the house next to the gas station. She was barely able to navigate the way to the sidewalk. Wobbling as she tried to walk in a sexy fashion, her ankles were unable to control the high heel sandals. She wore black panties, fishnet stockings, and a garter belt. Her top was a solid black bra. The cops would pick her up without a second thought if they saw her. She wasn't worried about that. The police only came when there was a violent crime and then only if it was reported. No one came when a hooker was beaten. He noticed that her black stockings were torn, leaving a patch of bare skin that marred the effect of the fishnet. It only made her look even cheaper. She stumbled as she tried to walk and light a cigarette. Stoned on crack, she couldn't do two things at the same time and had to stop to light her smoke. Sallow skin, sunken cheeks, and missing teeth spoke of too much time spent with the crack pipe. She looked forty and was maybe seventeen. As she stumbled her way to the light pole, he speculated on her past. From her build it was clear that she had been pretty. It was easy to imagine that she might have been a cheerleader. He bet the boys watched her with desire in boring classes; many of them probably masturbated at the idea of sleeping with her. Considering her current appearance, he doubted that any of those boys would even touch her now. She leaned against the light post, allowing it to support her. He heard the woman approaching before he saw her. She had tripped on the uneven sidewalk, unable to see in the darkness that reigned on his side of the street. It wasn't until she was nearly to the step that he could make her out. He grunted in acknowledgement of her presence and shifted to make room beside him on the step. She settled down beside him as the step protested the need to support even more weight. Her features were indistinct in the dull light, the darkness hid any expression on her face. After a minute, she asked, "What are you thinking about?" Motioning across the street with his nose, he answered, "Trying to decide who is using who." The woman shrugged, disinterested in the question as she watched the hookers across the street strut their stuff. After a minute, she answered, "It's an even exchange. The Johns want to get off with a blowjob. The Whores want to get off on some crack." Surprised by her statement, he looked over at her, the dark obscuring her lack of interest. Trying to get some emotional reaction, he said, "That's a rather jaded view." She shrugged and watched as another hooker climbed into a car. As far as she was concerned, nothing interesting was going on over there. "Ready to go in the house?" "Sure," he answered as he stood. Unlocking the door, he flipped on the light and held the door open for her. She entered and turned to wait for him to close the door behind him. A bare forty-watt light bulb screwed into a bare ceramic fixture lit the room casting weak shadows of the pair on the bare wall stained yellow by years of neglect and exposure to cigarette smoke. Dirty dishes sat on a small table by a worn out chair that faced an old television. There wasn't any other furniture in the room. The windows were open allowing her to watch the action across the street. Turning to face her, he held out a crumpled twenty-dollar bill between two fingers. She grabbed the bill and stuffed it inside her bra. Kneeling, she unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out. She gave it a few strokes to get it hard enough to accept a condom. When it had swelled under her touch, she slipped a condom over his erection without even looking at it. Her hands, tipped with bitten nails covered in chipped pink nail polish, went through the motions without requiring conscious thought. Speaking in an artificial tone of voice that rang hollow in the barren room, she said, "Oh. It's so big." She sucked on the condom, tasting the latex and the cherry flavoring, pleased that there wasn't any spermicide on it. Her hand rubbed up and down the shaft while she made loud slurping sounds, forced with an artificial timber. Occasionally, she would pause with the cock in her mouth and make moaning sounds as if she were enjoying this experience. He didn't believe her act for a second, but that didn't matter. All that mattered to him were the sensations on his cock. Before long, the come boiled out to fill the end of the condom. Two minutes, that's all it took; that's all it ever took. She gave a few more strokes to his cock and then pulled off the condom. She rose off her knees and stepped over to the trashcan. Looking down at the trash, she dropped the used condom and watched it fall across an empty beer can. The sperm dribbled out the open end of the condom and ran down the side of the can. As he zipped up his pants, she walked to the door. "I'll see you again." He watched her leave and then stood in the dirty room for a minute remembering when she had been a pretty woman. Going outside, he sat on the step to watch the action across the street. The woman that had just been in his house was a silhouette in the dark as she crossed the street. Shaking his head in disgust, he watched her enter the crack house next to the gas station. The black hooker was back and trying to wave down another car. He sighed as a pickup truck pulled over to the curb and came to a stop. She showed off her tits to the driver from a distance, but he was talking to a different hooker. The skinny white hooker was still leaning against the light post smoking another cigarette. Bored, he watched the action thinking that at least this was better than television.